In support of the May
21, 2013 North American publication of Ian
Cameron Esslemont’s “Blood and Bone”
and the Blood and Bone Blog Tour, Tor has agreed to give away ONE SET of the following Malazan Empire titles by the author:

Night of Knives (Trade Paperback)

Return of the Crimson Guard (Trade Paperback)

Stonewielder (Trade Paperback)

Orb Sceptre Throne (Trade Paperback)

Blood and Bone (Hardcover)

To enter, please send an email to fbcgiveaway@gmail.com with your Name,
Mailing Address, and the subject: MALAZAN.
Giveaway has ENDED!!! Thank you for entering and Good Luck!

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6) Winners Will Be Randomly Selected and Notified By Email

7) Personal Information Will Only Be Used In Mailing Out the
Prizes to the Winners

This subject came up recently at the last ICFA conference. The
genre of fantasy has often come under criticism, fairly and unfairly, as a
politically-naive purveyor of what’s known as ‘Imperial Nostalgia’. This
is the nostalgic, rosy-tinted looking-back on earlier colonial and European
Imperialist times as somehow preferable, or at least much less appalling, than
they really were. Novels of this ilk cherry-pick images and themes
(tropes) from these earlier times, while ignoring or papering-over the horrors
(Boardinghouses and social/class hierarchies, for example—Harry Potter, anyone? Or, parading Victorian technology and
accoutrement—Steampunk, you listening?)

While the charge may stick to fantasy here or there in the
larger sense, in epic fantasy that label has long slipped off in a wash of
blood. What may have once been an idyllic apolitical retreat is no
longer. Pieces that appear to ignore these developments will seem quaint
or naïve at best, or, at worst, distasteful or shameful.

Political machinations and the scramble for power have in
truth long been outed. Critics from outside the field are simply mouthing
the same old line. What was once cloaked in metaphor and symbol—rings for
example—is now the open bloody blade and grasping hand. And what many
decry as brutal and violent is in truth a return to the roots of the genre, in
epic and saga, where power and rulership are a matter of life and
death. And not at all pretty.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Ian C. Esslemont
grew up in Winnipeg, Manitoba. He has studied archaeology and creative writing,
has traveled extensively in Southeast Asia, and lived in Thailand and Japan for
several years. He now lives in Alaska with his wife and children and is
currently working on another novel set in the world of Malaz, a world he co-created with Steven Erikson. Ian C. Esslemont’s previous Malazan
novels include Night of Knives, Return of the Crimson Guard, Stonewielder, and Orb, Sceptre and Throne. For more information on Ian C. Esslemont and the Malazan novels, please visit the Official Ian Cameron
Esslemont Wikipedia and Malazan
Empire Website.

ABOUT BLOOD AND BONE:

In the western sky the bright emerald banner of the Visitor
descends like a portent of annihilation. On the continent of Jacuruku, the
Thaumaturgs have mounted yet another expedition to tame the neighboring wild
jungle. Yet this is no normal wilderness. It is called Himatan, and it is said
to be half of the spirit realm and half of the earth. And it is said to be
ruled by a powerful entity whom some name the Queen of Witches, and some a
goddess: the ancient Ardata.

Saeng grew up
knowing only the rule of the magus Thaumaturgs—but it was the voices out of
that land's forgotten past that she listened to. And when her rulers mount an
invasion of the neighboring jungle, those voices send her and her brother on a
desperate mission.

To the south, the desert tribes are united by the arrival of
a foreign warleader, a veteran commander in battered ashen mail whom his men
call the Grey Ghost. This warleader
takes the tribes on a raid like none other, deep into the heart of Thaumaturg
lands. Meanwhile word comes to K'azz,
and mercenary company the Crimson Guard, of a contract in Jacuruku. And their
employer . . . none other than Ardata
herself…

EXCERPT:

Chapter II

There are many tattooed men and women. Tattoos are often
religious incantations or symbols. They are held to offer protection against
illness, curses and to ward off the attention of ghosts. The more superstitious
the person, the more tattoos they are apt to have. Since tattooing is very
painful, the victim chews mind-dulling leaves or inhales stupefying smoke,
without relent, for the days of the operation.

Matha
Banness

In Jakuruku

The first significant attack upon the army came on the
fourth night of the march through the border region of jagged limestone mounts,
sheer cliffs and sudden precipitous sinkholes, the Gangreks. Golan had fallen
asleep at his travelling desk. Long into the night he’d been reading U-Pre’s
disheartening progress reports while the candles burned out one by one around
him. Screams and shouts from the edge of camp snapped his head from among the
sheets of cheap pressed fibre pages. The candles had all guttered out. Wrapping
his robes about himself, he stepped out of the tent and met the messenger sent
to bring him word of the disturbance. He waved the man silent and set off.

His yakshaka bodyguard fell in about him, swords drawn, and
Golan sourly reflected that this was hardly where their swords were needed.
Still, they were not to be blamed. It was not their job to patrol the camp
perimeter. He found most of the troops and labourers up and awake. They murmured
among themselves and strained to peer to the south. The whispers died away as
Golan and his escort passed. He felt the pressure of countless eyes following
him from the dark, all glittering as they reflected the dancing flames of the
camp torches. He recognized the gathering panic fed by the darkness and their
destination—a smothering animal coiling itself about everyone.

The south was a trampled battleground of torn tens,
overturned carts, slaughtered men and animals. The butchery appeared indiscriminate,
savage. Corpses lay where they had fallen, sprawled, revealing hideous wounds,
and Golan gritted his teeth. Where was U-Pre? He expected better than this of
the man. Droplets of blood and other fluids spattered the grasses and slashed
canvas. Here and there limbs lay completely torn from torsos. He studied the
corpse of a labourer eviscerated by a ragged gash across his stomach. Blue and pink-veined
intestines lay thrown like uncoiled rope. Someone wearing sandals had walked
across them. As reported: a fanged monstrosity emerging from the forest to rend
men limb from limb. What else but an opening move from Ardata?

He sighed, and, chilled by the cool night air, slid his
hands up the wide silk sleeves of his robe. Thankfully, a cordon of troopers
had been organized and these, with spears sideways, held back the curious.

Yet even so, stamped on the faces of those survivors, in
their wide staring eyes and sweaty pallid features, lay their obvious terror
and near panic. Must separate these from
the rest; such fear is contagious and grows in the recounting.

Walking unconcerned through the muck and steaming spilled
viscera came the equally fearsome apparition of the Isturé Skinner himself. His
ankle-length armoured coat glimmered like mail, though Golan knew it was
actually constructed of smooth interlocking scales. As he stepped over the
sprawled corpses his coat dragged across staring faces and slashed wet torsos.
It shone enameled black except where spattered fresh gore painted it a deep
crimson.

‘And where were you and your people during the attack?’
Golan demanded.

‘Elsewhere the foreigner responded, unconcerned. He clasped
his gauntleted hands behind his back to study the field of dead. Golan strove
to shrug off a feeling of unease at such a blasé attitude to this bloody
business. ‘Well . . . now that you are here it is time you were useful.’

The foreigner, so tall as to literally tower over Golan,
cocked a blond brow. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes. Track down this servant of Ardata. Slaughter it.’

In a scratching of scales Skinner crossed his armoured arms.
‘It is hardly a servant of Ardata.’

Golan waved a hand, forgetting momentarily that he wasn’t
carrying his rod or fly-whisk. ‘What more evidence is necessary? It is a
monster! It attacked us! We are entering Ardata’s demesnes!’

‘I would suggest that what we have entered is this thing’s
hunting grounds.’

Golan eyed the man more narrowly. ‘Regardless. You have
pledged certain obligations to the Circle of Masters.’

The foreign giant waved a hand in its banded, articulating
gauntlet. ‘Yes, yes. You have in me a partner for the campaign.’

‘Very good. Your first task awaits.’

Turning heavily away, the foreigner murmured, ‘For all the
good it will do . . . ‘

Golan followed his retreat to the dark forest verge. All the good? Well, yes, Ardata’s servants
are no doubt many. But that is your half of the bargain, foreigner. The throne
of Ardata’s lands could hardly be won so easily. And if you should destroy each
other in the process . . . well .
. .Golan shrugged, then waved away a
swarm of flies drawn by the spilt warm fluids.

**********

In the woods Mara awaited Skinner. With her stood Shijel and
Black the Lesser, younger brother of Black the Greater, who had remained with
K’azz. ‘Well?” she demanded as her commander appeared.

Skinner gave a slow shrug of disgust. ‘Our noble ally wants
it killed.”

‘Ridiculous! In a few days we’ll be out of its territory.’

‘Regardless . . . ‘

Mara kicked the ground. ‘Damned useless . . . ‘

‘Who’s coming?’ Black asked.

Skinner studied them. ‘We should do it. Mara, tell Jacinth
she’s in charge until we return.’

‘Very good.’

‘The trail?’ Skinner asked Shijel.

‘A blind tinker could follow it.’

‘So be it. Let us track it down. I’d like to be back by
dawn.’

Shijel did the tracking. He wore light leathers and gloves
on his hands, which were never far from the silver-wire-wrapped grips of his
twin longswords. The trail, obvious even to Mara, led them on. The nightly
rains returned, thick and warm. Mara’s robes became a heavy encumbrance that
she cursed as she stumbled over roots and through clinging mud. The possibility
of returning by dawn slowly slid away as they failed to reach the creature’s
lair until a feathering of pink touched the eastern sky. The four gathered
short of a jungle-choked opening in a tall cliff face and Mara cursed again.
‘Could go on forever, ‘ she muttered, keeping her voice low.

Their commander pulled on one of the hanging vines as if
testing its strength. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I do miss Cowl.’

Mara flinched at that mention of her old superior, now dead.
‘Meaning what?’ she demanded.

Skinner turned to her, frowned his puzzlement, and then
nodded his understanding. ‘Ah. No slight intended.’ He drew on his helm. ‘I
simply meant that I could just have sent him in and wouldn’t have to go
myself.’ He waved them on.

Mara followed, stepping awkwardly over rotting logs and
fallen rock. Well, there was that,
she admitted. Cowl would actually
have gone in alone. And no doubt Skinner did miss his old partner in scheming.
Together they’d proved a formidable team. Always it had been just the two of
them hammering out stratagems and tactics. Now that Cowl was gone Skinner was
well and truly utterly alone. And it seemed to her that the man was even less
human because of it.

She knew this cave was just one of the countless sinkholes
and caverns that riddled this mountain border region. Over the millennia rains
had rotted the limestone into a maze of grottoes and extended underground
tunnels where one could suddenly find oneself exposed in open sunlight yet lost
hundreds of feet below the surface. Some argued this was the true face of
Ardata’s realm. As if she were some sort of queen of the underworld. But Mara
knew this to be false. The Night-Queen’s demesne was open countryside. Yet
likewise over the millennia, her presence had altered the entire jungle until
it too resembled this border region where the unmindful traveller could
suddenly find himself wandering half immersed in a Warren-like realm: the
legendary enchanted forest of Himatan.

They pushed through the hanging leaves and vines then paused
to allow their vision to adjust, and to become used to the stink that suddenly
assaulted them: the overwhelming miasma of the layered urine and guano of
untold thousands of bats.

‘You have the sense of this thing?’ Skinner asked Mara.

‘Yes. Downward and to the right.’

‘Very good.’

Shijel led. Mara summoned her Warren to improve her vision.
The swordsman was on his way across the main section of the cave when she
sensed a shimmering of power there on the floor – which to her vision seemed
almost to seethe. ‘Halt!’

Everyone froze. ‘Well?’ Skinner murmured.

‘The floor of the cave. Something strange there . . . ’ Mara
summoned greater light, then selected a stone that she tossed on to the oddly
shifting floor. The stone disappeared as if dropped into water. The surface
burst into a flurry of hissing and writhing. It seemed to boil, revealing a
soup of vermin: centipedes, ivory-hued roaches, white beetles and pale maggots.
Amid the slurry of legs and chitinous slithering bodies lay bones. The skeletal
remains of animals. And of humans.

‘Strip you of flesh in an instant,’ Mara commented.

Shijel peered back at her, unconvinced. ‘They’re just
insects.’

‘There is power there.’

‘D’ivers?’ Skinner asked sharply.

Mara cocked her head, studying the pool more closely. ‘Not
as such. No. They are . . . enchanted,
I suppose one might call it.’

Black unslung his broad shield and drew his heavy bastard
sword. Mara fell in behind him, directing him to keep to the walls and to watch
his step. They descended in this order for some time; Skinner bringing up the
rear, perhaps as a precaution against their quarry’s attacking from behind. The
route Mara dictated narrowed and they slogged on through knee-high frigid
water. From somewhere nearby came the echoing roar of a falls.

Mara sensed it as it happened: she opened her mouth to shout
a warning even as a shape lunged from the dark water to latch itself upon Black
and the two went down in a twisting heap. From the slashing water rose the
monstrosity to launch itself upon her. She had an instant’s impression of a
glistening armoured torso like that of a lizard, sleek furred arms ending in
long talons, and a humanoid face distorted by an oversized mouth of needle-like
teeth. Two swords thrust over her shoulders impaling the creature in its lunge
and it shrieked, twisting aside to disappear once more beneath the water. Black
emerged, gasping and chuffing. His right shoulder was a bloody mess. He cradled
the arm. Mara nodded her thanks to Shijel, just behind her.

They found it close to an underground waterfall. It lay up
against rocks, half in the water. Blood smeared its chest and naked torso. Its
dark eyes glittered full of intelligence and awareness, watching them as they
approached, so Mara addressed it: ‘Why did you attack us?’

Its half-human face wrinkled up, either in pain or
annoyance. ‘Why?’ it growled. ‘Stupid question, Witch.’ It gestured a clawed
hand to Skinner. ‘You are a fool to return, Betrayer. She will not be so
patient with you a second time.’

‘We shall see,’ he answered from within his helm.

‘Again I ask,’ Mara said, ‘why attack? You are no match for
us.’

It bared its teeth in something like a hungry grin. ‘No. But
our mistress has spoken. You are no longer welcome and I honour our mistress.
You . . . ’ it gestured again to Skinner, weakly, ‘Himatan shall swallow you.’

Mara frowned, troubled by what seemed a prophecy, and she
crouched before it. ‘What do you—’

‘Well,’ the giant observed as he shook the dark blood from
his blade, ‘there’s nothing there now.’ He turned away. ‘Bring the body. The
damned Thaumaturg might yet demand proof.’

At the cave entrance Skinner paused, raising a gauntleted
hand to sign a halt. He regarded the wide cave floor, now as still as any
placid pool. He then went to the body, which Shijel and Black had dragged all
the way. Grunting with the effort, he gathered up the muscular corpse and
heaved the carcass overhead and out on to the floor. As it flew Mara flinched
to hear it give vent to one sudden despairing shriek, cut off as it disappeared
beneath the surface. The pool of vermin foamed to life in a great boiling froth
of maggots, beetles, writhing larvae and ghost-white centipedes.

Mara turned away, nauseated. Skinner watched for a time,
motionless, then headed for the surface. Passing Mara, he observed, ‘You were
right – stripped in an instant.’

"When Q was first published in 1999, it was an international sensation; returning to the same world of that extraordinary novel Altai is a captivating story of betrayal, beliefs and the clash of civilizations.

When
a fire breaks out in the Arsenal of Venice in 1569, everyone suspects
Joseph Nasi, number-one enemy of the republic. But it is the enigmatic
Emmanuele De Zante, spy catcher and agent of the Venetian secret
service, who finds himself in jail accused of treason, having been
betrayed by his lover.

When De Zante is offered the chance to
escape, he embarks on an odyssey that takes him to Salonica, the
Jerusalem of the Balkans, and from there, all the way to the Sultan’s
palace in Constantinople. Spiraling through a series of deadly political
games, De Zante’s voyage will test his loyalty and force him to
question even his own identity. Together, De Zante and his companions
head toward a conflict that threatens the very nature of civilization.

A historical epic spanning a continent scarred by war, Altai
went straight into the bestsellers list when first published in Italy.
It is a coruscating portrait of the divided world—east meets west—in the
sixteenth century, where the great empires of the Republic of Venice
and the Ottomans are on the verge of an epoch-making conflict. In this
dramatic landscape, the authors’ collective Wu Ming creates a powerful
narrative of danger, identity, and adventure."

"Altai" is a superb historical novel that continues the themes of Q - what does freedom for the oppressed mean, how one can try and achieve it and why it is worth trying even when it seems patently hopeless - and we
even get to see Q's multifaceted hero of many names a little more though he is not the main
hero/narrator here.

Altai takes place from 1569-1571 - so it is much more compressed
in time than the sprawling Q, whose action happened from 1519-1551 with an epilogue in 1555 - and
this time it has as main story the fate of Jewish refugees from all over
Europe who find in Joseph Nasi a protector at the Sultan's court

Also known by his Spanish name, Joao
Miquez, we have already been acquainted with Joseph in the earlier novel, though here he comes truly on his own as a larger than life character with great dreams and maybe with even the possibility to see at least some come to fruition.

His aunt/mother-in-law, Dona Gracia, who was such a luminous character in Q,
appears also briefly as her dying wishes bring the German/Ismail/Tiziano back from his
desert exile to help Nasi with his great dream - build a state for the
oppressed, so especially for the Jews of Europe but not only...

The
narrator of Altai who starts as Emanuele
Zante, agent of the Venetian's inquisition, a Jew hater, hunter of Ottoman's agents and for whom Nasi is the "Great Satan" is the son of a Venetian sea captain and a Jewish girl from
Ragusa. Living as Manuel Cardoso for his first 15 years in the Jewish community in Raguza, community which ostracized his
mother for "immorality", he starts hating his relatives and neighbors and leaps at the opportunity to become his father's
heir as Emmanuele Zante with a carefully recreated past, when his "legitimate" sons being dead, the old man turns to him for comfort...

Of course there is one physical
characteristic that marked him as a Jew, so Emanuele who became the #1
agent of the Venetian secret police never frequents brothels but
prefers to hire a courtesan for his own exclusive use, hoping the
money he pays her are enough to keep his secret; for a while it works,
but...

And so it starts, with Emanuele hunted by the Venetian as a
secret Jew and traitor, reluctantly and then openly embracing "his" people
and finally finding in Joseph Nasi a kindred soul
who more or less adopts him - Joseph openly known as an intimate of Sultan Selim II has no interest in women - while in return, Manuel helps advance his cause with his skills and training.

Of course the ultimate weakness of Joseph's plans that people keep pointing to him is that everything depends on Ottoman might and favor and like his biblical counterpart and the Pharaoh, Joseph may ride today high in the Sultan's favor, but nobody knows what tomorrow will bring...

Thank you for having me today! I’m going to give a little background on the universe my new book, THE DAUGHTER STAR, is set in. This book is the first of three about the Grayline sisters, so I’m hoping to explore as many nooks and crannies of this universe as I can.

This universe is something new; it’s completely unconnected to the universe my EXTRAHUMANS series is set in. It’s set several hundred years in the future, when humans have become completely cut off from Earth. The basic idea is that an alien species moved humanity to a new star system in exchange for being able to harvest a kind of resource in Earth’s atmosphere. This destroyed Earth, but now humans have three new worlds to develop and expand on instead of one. Whether or not this was a good deal is a matter of intense debate.

The action mostly takes place in this star system, called the Family Ternary System. There are three stars: blue-white Father, yellow-white Mother, and red dwarf Daughter. Each star has a habitable planet. Adastre orbits Father, and is the most Earth-like of the three. The Adastrans are the descendants of what we might call the rich world here. Their society is technologically advanced, highly centralized and rather sterile. Adastrans are often tall, lithe and graceful, and by and large speak a dialect of English as their common language.

Nea orbits Mother, and is a much more massive world. This means the gravity is noticeably higher, which causes all kinds of problems for the nearly 20 billion humans who live there. Novans (inhabitants of Nea) are largely descended from less-wealthy countries on Earth, and thanks to the high gravity they tend to be short, squat, very muscular and prone to dying early. Novan societies are generally less technologically advanced except in the medical devices they developed to help people survive a high-gravity world. Novan politics are chaotic; there are hundreds of small countries loosely bound by a single world Commonwealth.

The other habitable planet is Haven, which orbits Daughter. Because the habitable zone of a red dwarf star is so close to the star, Haven is tidally locked, meaning one side is always facing the star. This means there’s only a small slice of Haven that humans can live on, the twilight area near the terminator. The sunward facing pole of Haven, the Noon Point, is a massive permanent hurricane, and the other pole, the Midnight Point, is cold and desolate. Humans from Nea and Adastre colonized this world not long after arriving in the system, and now wage war over who should control it. In fact, it’s this war on Haven that provides the backdrop for THE DAUGHTER STAR.

Marta Grayline is a space pilot from Gideon, a Novan country founded by a religious sect not long after humans left Earth. This is an extremely conservative, traditionalist country with some very outmoded ideas about women and family, which is why Marta ran away to space to join the Novan Trade Fleet when she was eighteen. Her parents, her little brother and her two sisters, Violet and Beth, still live there, and the story opens when the Haven War forces Marta to go home.

And then there’s the Abrax, who are the alien species who destroyed Earth and moved humanity. They’ve stuck around in the system and occasionally meddle in human affairs. They have a complex history, more of which Marta discovers as the book progresses. They are telepathic, they don’t have a single fixed shape, and they are rapidly dying out. They can form intense connections with certain humans, though the nature of that connection is different in each pairing. There are humans who help the Abrax, and humans who despise them. This is the brief overview of the world THE DAUGHTER STAR is set in. I’ll answer questions if you have them in the comments! The book was released yesterday (5/28/13). Thanks again for having me, and for reading!

AUTHOR INFORMATION: Susan Jane Bigelow is a librarian, SF/F author and political columnist, among other things. She has previously written about a variety of things from politics in Connecticut to memoir-ish nonfiction to science fiction/fantasy stories and novels. She also writes a weekly political column focusing on politics in the Nutmeg state. She enjoys biking, reading, Doctor Who and other things. She currently lives in Enfield, Connecticut with her partner and cats.

Siege and Storm is the second of Leigh Bardugo's The Grisha Trilogy, following her wonderful debut Shadow and Bone. A middle book it may
be, but the plot drives forward without getting mired in final ending set-up.

Bardugo uses prologues and epilogues to great effect, tying the
novels together with a common structure and deftly managing the passage of time
without merely listing exposition. Then, right from chapter one, she ups the
stakes, making our villain more dangerous (and creepy, if still compelling) and
leaving our heroine Alina
dangerously lacking in power, but wondering whether the very act of wanting
more power at all is the first step down a slippery slope. There are some
interesting things going on with the dangers of charm and the burdens of
leadership as well, often seen through characters' biting sarcasm.

Siege and Storm gives us a few new major characters, one
of whom is every bit as compelling as the villain (no mean feat), and the
parallels and contrasts between them are really fascinating. No matter how far
they might have come, Bardugo is
able to keep in mind the different mindsets between those who grew up as
royalty or as peasants, which makes for some interesting tension. We also got
some really cool new technology in this book and some interesting integrations
between the Grisha “Small Science” and “mundane” technology.

There are a few
things that bothered me in this book. One character gets mutilated pretty severely
for no apparent reason—or rather, no plot reason; I get that it was supposed to
jerk Alina's heartstrings, but it
felt gimmicky to me. I was also bothered at how easily Alina, who was never particularly well-liked by most of the Grisha,
is able to shift long-standing traditions with almost no resentment or backlash
from the Grisha. The set-up was all there: Alina
worried about the changes, and about how far she could trust the Grisha, and
then all that set-up never became relevant. I think it's a missed opportunity,
and given Alina's understandable
paranoia, it doesn't seem like the sort of thing she'd just take in stride
without any follow-up commentary or thought.

Alina does deliberately miss the point a lot, and she's pretty
practiced at denial. She also spends a lot of time angsting and, while her life
is undeniably hard, it does get old. What particularly gets old is how often
she worries about the affections of her boyfriend, and vice versa. I realize
two people very in love can still be insecure, but about halfway through the
book I was starting to roll my eyes every time Alina started fretting over it, which tells me the emphasis was
laid on a little too thick.

Siege and Storm ends on a not-quite reassuring note,
having once again amped up the stakes and introduced more complications to an
already murky situation. I look forward to seeing how Leigh Bardugo resolves all these plot threads in book three, Ruin and Rising, next year.

Shadow and Bone is the first installment of Leigh Bardugo's The Grisha Trilogy, and
I absolutely loved it. It takes place in a fantasy setting with a distinctly
Russian flavor, and I do enjoy breaking out of the medieval western European
fantasy mold. The magic system is well-executed if not terribly innovative. In
fact, many fantasy tropes have been twisted and dropped in, but I think it was
done deftly. The plot is well paced. The description was evocative, and that’s
coming from a person whose natural inclination is to skip over descriptive
parts entirely.

All of these
aspects were strong; the characters were great. Bardugo was great at giving just enough detail, not overwhelming
with it, to make all the side characters really solid. The protagonist, Alina Starkov, is sort of a cross
between the innocent orphan and the wise-cracking heroine tropes. She is
clever, and she thinks about her world, but she is still out of her depth and
fully aware of that. It’s the best of both worlds, and it was refreshing to see
such an imperfect, self-aware heroine.

Shadow and Bone has the best villain I have read in
ages. I’m going to use the male gendered pronoun for expediency here and say I
loved him. For most of the book I was rooting for him, and I didn’t even
realize he was the villain. Then after I knew he was the villain, I was still half-rooting for him. I kept
forgetting why I shouldn’t be, because he was just that compelling. Brilliant.

I’m really not
doing this book any kind of justice. Bardugo
is tackling complex issues all over the place. I think my jaw actually dropped
a little when I read about the origin of the volcra. This author understands
the consequences of actions and ideologies. She makes you question without
handing you an easy answer.

This novel
really has everything. It was beyond entertaining, and it made me think, which
is, in my opinion, the very best kind of book. The sequel, Siege and Storm, will be out June
4, 2013.

"At the end of the Alburgh pier, where the Belle Steamers full of London holidaymakers once tied up, two fishermen were leaning over the balustrade. They each had two lines in the water. Below them the leaden gray waves washed around the pilings; the sea was cold as a corpse.

From here you could clearly see Warren Feldman’s titanic accomplishment, and how those efforts had already been almost obliterated by the sea. Over a length of about one kilometer he’d thrown up a wall of turf, earth and clay – the wall was four meters high and stood out darkly against the yellow sand of the much higher cliff against which it leaned at Kings Ness. A primitive bulwark against erosion. Since time began the land here had been eaten away by the sea, during storms, when the North Sea threw its clenched fury at the cliffs of eastern England. Far away, at the extreme northern end of Kings Ness, stood the home of John and Emma Ambrose. All the house needed was a wee push to be drawn into the abyss.

My mother and I had known the falling feeling that went with living on the edge. The inhabitants of the medieval town of Castrum had known it too, the water had driven them further west all the time. Now the sea flows where the city once lay, Castrum no longer exists, her name sounds like Atlantis. She was lost to the North Sea, which gobbled her up storm after storm, bite by bite. The western edge of the vanished town had snuggled all the way to Kings Ness. You could say that we, the people of Kings Ness, are the final inhabitants of Castrum, the last of the Atlanteans. Our house too, on that night long ago, became a part of the ruinous street plan of Castrum which stretches some three miles eastward out onto the seabed, and is visited only by divers and sea creatures."

"Caesarion" is a compelling novel that promises -and mostly delivers - a lot though it loses some coherence in the last third. The book has a
very strong start when narrator Ludwig Unger, now in his early 30's and
a hotel piano player who drifts through life, returns to his childhood
home in Britain for the funeral of Warren, the man who had sold a house from
his large estate to his mother and later helped and befriended them
because said house was on the cliffs and was continually threatened by storms,
while Warren's big projects to keep the land from submerging in the sea
were thwarted by this and that bureaucracy.

Getting a gig at the
local bar/restaurant run by one his school friends, Ludwig has an affair
with a realtor visiting the place and tells her the story of his
life from the dramatic move from Alexandria when he was little and his
sculptor father had recently left his mother, to the school years in Britain, the
revelation that his mother used to be a famous porn star in her late teens and then later after the house is taken by the sea, his mother's
return to the porn trade and Ludwig's following her from Hollywood to
many other places and trying to come to terms with her choice of
profession, his acceptance of the glamorous lifestyle resulting from it
and his need to accompany her...

As mentioned, the first 2/3 or so
of the novel is very strong in both character development and storyline as it has quite a few surprises and strong narrative momentum balanced by coherence, but the last part which goes through quite
a few years, locations and a bunch of Ludwig's affairs - all inevitably with older rich women for obvious reasons - and includes our hero's quest to
understand his father too, feels rushed though it has its powerful
moments too. It may also be that the shifting in tone from hopeful and exuberant to tragedy and resigned acceptance contributes to that feeling, but overall I felt a clear lack of balance between the parts.

Overall "Caesarion" is literary high grade stuff that stops a little short from being a masterpiece to remember for a long time like say this recent translation, while it still left me interested in reading more from the author.

They say your first loves stay with you always and I found this to be very true in my personal life as well as my reading tastes. When I started reading fantasy, one of the first authors I happened upon was Sarah Ash with her Tears Of Artamon trilogy, it was a fascinating series about love, sacrifice, ambition and fate of the world (as is the case with most epic fantasy trilogies).

Since then I've followed her career with interest and read her follow-up duology to the Artamon trilogy titled The Alchymist’s Legacy. I also happened to locate and read her first three standalone titles that were almost out of print by then. This brings me to this most recent post of hers wherein she announced that, she is able to release her three previous books that were out-of print. Here’s what Sarah revealed in an email about all three titles and the folks who made this happen:

Read the blurb HEREOrder the book HERE (Amazon US), HERE (Amazon UK) & HERE (Barnes & Noble)Moths to a Flame was my first novel to make it into print and onto bookshelves. It grew out of a short story that was published by David Pringle in Interzone (bows in thanks!) I was doing research at the time for an (unpublished) novel set around the corrupt court of the early Byzantine Empire and that, in turn, led to Moths. I’m so pleased that the good people at JABberwocky (Joshua Bilmes, Jessie Cammack, and Lisa Rodgers) have given it a new lease of life as an e-book – and with gorgeous new cover art by Marcelle Natisin. Marcelle has also done the atmospheric covers for Songspinners and The Lost Child. You can see more of her work at her website (a favourite of mine is her depiction of all seven Drakhaouls from The Tears of Artamon.)

Spoilt rich girl, Lia Maury, is one of my favourite characters in The Lost Child. Everything is going so well for her until her fiancé’s tailor, Rahab, on the run from the law and accused of murder, hides out in her house – and uncovers some unpalatable truths about her past. Both are connected to a dark and ancient source of power – and they must flee to stop their secret falling into the wrong hands.

Have you ever been plagued by an earworm? That annoying fragment of music that plays and replays in your mind ceaselessly? And what would it be like if you could hear the music in other people’s minds – wouldn't it send you mad? Orial, the heroine of Songspinners, uses this unusual gift to help an injured composer – but her selfless act may sow the seeds of her own destruction

This e-book project would not have come to fruition without the help of my agent John Berlyne of Zeno Literary Agency in association with John Richard Parker and so a BIG thank you to them for all their hard work and zeal.

I'm hoping that this will lead to more books from Sarah especially the "vingt ans apres" trilogy to the Tears Of Artamon trilogy.

Since I was away from Fantasy Book Critic when Imager's Battalion was published in January, I will talk about it below too, but I will start with the current Antiagon Fire to be published on May 28th.

For the series background I refer to our reviews of Scholar and Princeps linked above, but the essential structure is the classical sfnal: powerful and competent but not invincible/all mighty hero needs to solve issue after issue; some need his magic, some need his relations with the powerful of the day, some need his wife's or his friends skills, some need just common sense...

Antiagon Fire is the 4th Quaeryt Imager book with Rex Regis next January ending his saga and it was as superb as the previous three. The novel has the same structure and similar topics being a direct continuation of Imager's Battalion as it starts with Quaeryt's awakening after the dramatic events at Variana. There is a lot
of action, intrigue while all our favorite characters are back.

Vaelora has a more directly important
role in Antiagon Fire as she becomes co-envoy with Quaeryt and starts manifesting
some of the power hinted in earlier volumes, though most of the book
still follows Quaeryt solving problem after problem and after a while,
finally taking overt action on his own to bring about the desired
outcome.

New characters are introduced who may be of interest
later and there is much more background on Khel and the Bovarian conquest. There are new High Holders who may see or not the wisdom of submission to Bhayar, while the strange land of Antiagon behind its literal - the border with Bovaria is walled - and metaphorical walls - Antiagon
Fire and Imager power - is quite different than any place in Lydar we've seen so far.

As the title kind of makes it clear, Quaeryt and his staff finally meet opposing imagers in battle, though now as they have a lot of campaigning under their belt, the combination of war experience and imager training under fire, makes them hard to stop.

The ending happens at a good to be continued point, while the last 150 pages or so are even more intense than in any of the previous books. Antiagon
Fire together with Imager's Battalion form an impressive 3-4 series installments dealing with the wars of unification proper and they are my top sff of the year.

As it has a high reread value - I've already read each Quaeryt volumes at least 3 times and the original Rhenn ones probably 4-5 times - the Imager series has become
one of my huge favorites and I will be sad when the last volume is
published early in 2014, though the author has not
precluded returning to Terahnar at another point in its history.

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Imager's Battalion by LE Modesitt is the 3rd Quaeryt book and 6th Imager
overall and it was another addictive read that I finished very soon after receiving an advanced review copy sometime last year.

Excellent stuff with the same structure as books 1/2
(Scholar/Princeps) though this one is mostly war: Imagers - magic,
powerful but few of them - against musketeers, canon, guns, arrows, ambushes, lots
of expendable soldiers and even the powerful super-weapon of the day, Antiagon fire, as now sub-commander Quaeryt leads 5th Battalion, the vanguard of
the Southern Army of Telaryn led by commander Skarpa, his friend from Tilbor, into Bovaria proper against the forces of cruel Rex Kharst.

After
Quaeryt and Skarpa defeated the Bovarian invasion so decisively at
Ferrravyl in the previous book, the Bovarians are on the defensive and
unprepared as they lost all their invading army, but they still can
muster 40+ regiments if given time, while Telaryn can manage 20-30 at
most in addition of having all the logistical problems of an invading
army in enemy territory, though luckily Rex Kharst is not that popular,
only extremely feared.

Also the hopes of the Pharsi nation, subjugated and persecuted by Kharst, rest on Quaeryt's shoulders too as
his command is mostly Pharsi refugee soldiers and officers in addition
of course to the few mostly untrained Imagers whom he has to shape into officers too.

And not to make matters easier, Quaeryt's wife and Lord
Bhayar's youngest sister, Vaelora, now pregnant, has her own job at court
to co-rule with her sister-in-law Aelina, as Telaryn's ruler is with the
main Army of the North since he has staked everything on the invasion too..

Moreover the Telaryn Commander in Chief, Marshal Deucalon doesn't like Quaeryt
or Skarpa in the least so they get the minimum amount of soldiers and
the maximum amount of hardship possible without triggering Bhayar's ire,
while Sub-Marshal Myskil, former close confidant of governor Rescalyn
and presumably involved in his plot to take over Telaryn and depose
Bhayar, still remembers Quaeryt's so elegantly breaking the plot, while
leaving a dead Rescalyn as a big war hero of Telaryn...